Taken Back a Bit
by Inga-Susan
Summary: One, normal, summer day, Italy wakes up from a dream recalling the days when he was a littler nation. But then, an accident causes him to bump his head and lose his memory! Now he thinks he's "Chibitalia" again! R&R!


** A/N: " I'm sorry to say that I do not own Hetalia."**

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**Taken Back a Bit**

**Prologue**

The chipper, red-headed Italian skipped gleefully onto the training grounds. It was late in the afternoon, so the hot sun penetrated his clothing and gingerly pricked at his skin. Even though he really wasn't suppose to be there on Sundays, Italy just figured that he would stop by to see Germany. What could hurt in visiting, right? The Germanic nation was constantly on those training grounds, even on the weekends, so Italy didn't have a doubt in his mind that he'd see him that day. But to his surprise, once he reached the place, Germany was no where in sight.

" Aw, poo," Italy mumbled, his curl deflating. Well, if Germany wasn't running the track, he had to be in his office. Italy skipped towards the house and practically invited himself in, opening the doors with a heavy creaking. Only to confuse the Italian further, it was pitch black inside. He stepped back a bit, a strong scared feeling building up in his stomach, and he was just seconds from retreating back to his house. when he heard voices echoing down the halls.

" G-Germany, is that you?" Italy asked, a tinge of hope in his voice. The voices continued and Italy, torn between following the sounds and running away, stood there dumbly, stuck like his shoes were nailed to the floor. Finally, after the voices got too close and frightened him out of his wits, he turned back to the door. Just as he did, he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He shivered at the touch. A scream bubbled up within him.

" G-GYYAAAAA! Please don't kill me, mister! I'm a virgin-virgins won't be any fun to kill anyways!" the Italian whimpered, his arms flying all over the place. Reluctantly, Italy turned around to face his attacker. His heart almost came out with his sigh of relief.

It was only Germany.

" Phew! Germany, it's just you! I thought that It'd be England or somebody, but nope! Just y-" Italy's words died on his tongue. There was something different about this Germany. The Germany he knew was always in his uniform, but this Germany- this Germany was wearing clothes of black, a cape also draped around his shoulders. A sword was strapped to his side. Italy swallowed hard.

Wh-what was this?

" Oh, Italy," the man that Italy mistook for Germany suddenly cooed, pulling Italy into his arms. The Italian nation blushed as the man rested his nose in the crook of Italy's neck. He held him tighter.

" I'm so sorry for leaving you all these long years. I wish I could have come back sooner," the man said, his Italian? accent washing a sense of deja vu all over Italy's mind. This was definitely not Germany, but, for some reason, the Italian nation didn't feel threatened by his touch. In fact, he pulled nation in closer, deepening the embrace.

" H-Holy Rome?" On a heartbeat, the name fell from his lips. That's when the hazy, broken memories of the years parted were cleared. All of those times when they were together, the dreams Italy had of him ever since he left, and that kiss, all came back to him in a flash. Italy buried his face in the Holy Roman Empire's chest, tears breaking from his open, amber eyes.

" Oh, Holy Rome!" the Italian exclaimed, water finally pouring over his cheeks in tiny streams. " Ti amo! Ti amo! Ti amo!"

*** DIIIIIIING!***

Italy sat up with a whip of his back, screaming, utterly scared from the awful sound that woke him up. He turned around to face whatever monster that was on his nightstand. Ready to surrender and bring out his white flags, Italy quickly bowed in respect (as Japan taught him to do when he was addressing something serious) to the noisy thing.

" I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean t-" Italy paused and stared at the rattling alarm clock on his bedside table. He smiled and chuckled at himself, turning of the clock with a quiet click.

" Tee-hee~. I almost forgot that Germany set this up so that I wouldn't be late for training again, ve~!" The nation said to himself. But, as soon as the smile appeared on his face, it disappeared and was replaced with an anxious frown.

"Oh, no! Now I remember! I set the clock to a different time last night!" Worriedly, Italy dashed to his window, pulling open the drapes with one, quick, motion. The heavy rays of afternoon sunlight nearly blinded him. With haste, he picked up the alarm clock, looked at it, and then looked outside the window again.

" No no no no no no no no~! Two'o'clock, already? How long was I asleep? Ah-wait-maybe I've got some time to catch up with Germany and Japan for lunch!" Italy practically lunged across the room, stark naked, as he searched his drawers for his uniform. Successfully finding the pants to it, he stumbled a bit as he pulled them up his legs, not caring about underwear. Throwing his clothes around the room, Italy began to cry when he couldn't find a shirt.

" No~, Germany's going to kill me if I don't show up in full unifo-" he whined, suddenly teetering back as he tripped over the mess of clothes. A small string of panic was pulled through him as he slipped (on none-other-than his shirt). The fall too quick for him to break it, Italy's head hit the nightstand, and then, went crashing down to the floor.

It felt like thousands of years of memory was knocked out of him, and then, he was out cold.

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**A/N: " Please let me know if you'd like to hear more of this! All feedback is deeply appreciated."**


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